


Egg

by nelyonelyo



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-12
Updated: 2018-01-12
Packaged: 2019-03-03 19:56:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13348395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nelyonelyo/pseuds/nelyonelyo
Summary: Maedhros teaches Elrond how to cook an omelette. Just a little fluff piece. Wrote it because I rarely see young Elrond act like an actual little kid- so here he is, acting like how kids often act. He's not perfect, and I love him. Mae tries to be a good uncle/dad of sorts. He's not perfect at it either, but he's by now means horrible.Elves age slowly, so while Elrond is in his teens in terms of actual years, I'd say he's like 3-8 years old here in terms of "age."Rated teen rather than gen because of mild profanity and a kinslaying reference.





	Egg

The air outside was foggy-crisp, but the air inside the small cabin was warm. Maedhros sat relaxed in his chair, eyes closed, resting. He was particularly fond of that chair- it was that fancy sort which rocked. The motions of it always managed to help him sleep. The creaking of the wood as it leaned forwards and backwards, compressing slightly under his weight, created a soothing rhythm and warded off silence. It had been ten years since the Third Kinslaying. The boys were still young children, but they had already forgotten much of Sirion. Maedhros had not. He recalled it all. Grass had still not grown over the grave of his youngest brother. The blood of Sindar and Noldor lay fresh on his hand. The two remaining Feanorians were unloved men, but in their small cabin on the foothill of Andram, they found peaceful isolation. A few human villages were oblivious to their reputation and happily traded with them. Maedhros worried what they would do once all their jewels were pawned off. 

He preferred not to dwell on these things. He preferred to sleep. And so, he rocked himself in the chair, and found himself happily drifting into a nap.

“OMELETTE!”

Accompanied by this yell was the weight of a small boy climbing his way onto Maedhros’s lap.

“FUCKING OMELETTE!”

Maedhros awoke at this. He laughed to himself at Elrond’s casual use of the word. He used it plenty himself, and Elrond took an affinity to using it. He never had the heart to discipline the boy. He left the parenting strictness to Maglor. Maedhros saw no clear reason why the boy should be barred from use of such words. He did however recognize Maglor’s discomfort with it, and did not encourage its prominence in Elrond’s vocabulary. 

He picked him the small elf, removing him from his lap and depositing him on the floor to the side of his chair. 

“An omelette, Elrond? Now?”

“IT’S LUNCH TIME!” he yelled impatiently in response. 

Perhaps it  _ was  _ lunch time. Maedhros was never good at keeping track of time. He stood up from his chair, slid his feet into a pair of slippers, and walked with Elrond over to their small kitchen.

Elrond hurried into the kitchen and eagerly took a seat at the table. He swung his legs back and forth in his chair, waiting for Maedhros to catch up. “OMELETTE! OMELETTE!! OMELETTE!!”

Maedhros looked at the young boy in the chair. He was old enough to have begun the basics of music and archery. Surely, he was old enough to make his own eggs?

“Elrond, today, instead of me doing the cooking, how about you come help? Once you learn to make your own omelettes, you will not need me for this. You can make your own omelettes even when I’m not there!”

“But you never GO anywhere!” Elrond declared. “Why would I need to make my own omelettes?”

“So I can sleep in peace, maybe?” Elrond frowned. Maedhros realized he spoke harshly, and corrected himself. “I do prefer spending time with you. But you’re getting older. You need to learn these things. You never know how long I’ll be around for!”

Elrond looked at him in paniced concern.

Maedhros sighed and once again tried to remedy the situation. “I will never abandon you, Elrond. That’s not what I am saying. Merely, perhaps, one day you’ll be a grown man, and you’ll be independant. My father married in his fifties. Many elves do. Perhaps you’ll marry someone in your fifties, and you’ll move off to a house with them. If so, you’ll have to make omelettes all by yourself! I mean, my father’s father stayed with him, but that was different, because he didn’t have a mother, and-”

“I don’t have a mother either. You can stay and cook for me forever, then!”

“No!” Maedhros grew frustrated with himself, unable to find the right words. “No. No, that is not how this is going to work!” He thought to himself for another explanation. “What if I lose my OTHER hand, and cannot mix the eggs right anymore?”

“You’re going to get stuck on a cliff again and get bitten by a bird?”

“No! That’s not what happened! I- wait, Elrond, who told you that? You’re not supposed to KNOW that!”

“I read it in Maglor’s music books!”

“HOW MUCH DID YOU READ?” Maedhros demanded.

“Not much. Just the bird. I drew a little bird on the page to match it. Reading is boring anyways.”

“Reading is not-” Maedhros stopped himself, realizing the uselessness of trying to convince the elfling of anything. “Listen, you’re going to make omelettes, and that is just how it is going to be. Okay?”

“Why?”

“BECAUSE I SAID SO.”

Elrond scowled at him.

“Now,” Maedhros said sternly, “come over to the fireplace, I’ll show you what I do. Then you copy me.”

“I don’t LIKE fire.”

“Elrond, you are part maia. You are from the line of Luthien, one of the strongest ladies I have ever met. Fire is not going to hurt you badly. Besides, the flame here is not too hot. It is just burning wood, see?” Maedhros waved his left hand through the top of the flames to demonstrate. “Does not burn me.”

Elrond walked over to the fireplace in performative boredom and grumpiness. He kneeled next to Maedhros, making sure to sigh loudly several times to make sure that his disapproval was heard. 

Maedhros had already placed a cast iron pan near the flames. As it warmed up, he moved a stick of butter around it. “This step makes sure that the egg does not stick to the pan. It also adds flavor. Understood? I like to wait for the pan to get a little warm first. Helps to melt the butter.” He handed the stick to Elrond. “Here, you try with the other half.”

Elrond put the butter to his mouth and began to eat the stick.

“NO! ELROND. DO _NOT_ EAT THE _BUTTER_. WE WENT OVER THIS.”   


Elrond gave Maedhros a eyebrow-scrunched, stink-eyed glare. He did, however, also butter the pan.

“Good! Make sure to get the sides too.”

Elrond did. Though he was grumpy about having to learn the new task, he was adept at it well enough.

“Now,” Maedhros continued, “we crack the eggs into the pan. I usually make about eight or nine for myself. For you, since you’re still small, only three. Watch. I tap it against the edge, and the shell breaks. If I pinch my hand like this, the insides spill out. See?” He demonstrated fluidly, then passed Elrond and egg.

Elrond slammed it against the edge of the pan. Egg-shatter sprayed half into the fire, half onto their clothes. 

“Lighter, next time.” Maedhros passed him a second egg.

This time, Elrond was able to break it. It was not a clean crack, and some of the yolk did get on his fingers, but he did successfully get it into the pan. He looked up at Maedhros with a beaming grin, proud of what he had accomplished. Maedhros grinned back at him, then passed him another egg. Elrond broke it into the pan ever better this time. 

Maedhros pushed the pan a little farther towards the fire, where the egg could become warm and cook. From a hook on the wall, he took a metal fork with a cord-wrapped handle, and began to stir the egg with it. “This step has to be done fast, before the egg cooks. I am mixing the yolk and the white together. It is not hard.”

“I’m hungry.”

“You can’t eat uncooked eggs, Elrond.”

“Why not.”

“They’re better cooked.”

“They might not be.”

“They are, trust me.”

“But I’m hungry.”

“ELROND.” He inhaled deeply. “Elrond, please, let’s just do this.”

Elrond returned his focus to the eggs. The heat had begun to cook the liquid mess into a thin yellow disk. 

“Now,” Maedhros continued, “we add the insides. Would you like onion and cheese, or just cheese?”

“JUST ONION.”

Maedhros did not feel like arguing with him, and thus happily dumped in a handful of white onion. It wasn’t his fault if Elrond made a mistake with this choice. It was important, he decided, that he could make his own choices and have his own consequences. An all-onion omelette was a rather mild way to learn about bad choices anyways. 

“Now, I nudge the fork under the edge here, and I flip it over lightly. Here, hold the handle.” Maedhros passed the cord-wrapped fork handle over to Elrond. “I’ll guide your hand. Try the flip.”

Elrond poked it at the egg patty, but Maedhros helped guide it to the right angle. “There you go. I’ll let go of your hand, and you can flip it.”

Elrond flicked the edge of the fork up. The flip was not complete, and only about a third of the omelette successfully overlapped itself. 

“Not bad for a first time try!” Maedhros declared. He grinned again at Elrond, then removed the pan from the fire. Elrond glared at the imperfect egg creation. Maedhros noticed his dissatisfaction, and quickly made a remark. “It doesn’t matter if it’s folded perfectly. That takes practice. It really does not matter how the omelette looks, I promise. It tastes like egg either way.”

“And onion.” Elrond added.

“And onion!”

Maedhros lifted the iron pan to slide the omelette onto Elrond’s plate, but accidentally brushed it along his leg. “FUCK,” he said quickly to himself in response to the heat. 

“Fuck!” Elrond echoed.   


“NO! Stop saying that! You know Maglor hated that when you say it.” Elrond scowled at him. Maedhros rolled his eyes. “Where  _ is _ Maglor, anyways? Elros, too. Have you seen them today?”

“They’re sleeping.”

“Why are they sleeping?”

Elrond shrugged. “Maybe because it’s night?”

“You said it was lunch time.”

“I lied. I was bored.”

Maedhros thought about this. 

“It’s still dark outside. Did you believe me? Really?” Elrond continued.

Maedhros did not really want to admit to himself how drifted out he was. He realized now that yes, it was indeed night time. The house was only lit by candles, the fireplace, and Tilion’s light. Had he really not seen that before? 

“Can I eat now?” Elrond asked.

Maedhros snapped himself back to the conversation. “What, oh, oh. Yeah. You can eat. There’s salt on the table. Here, I’ll get you some water.” He dunked a mug into the bucket of well-water he had carried in the previous day. He walked over to the table and sat himself in a chair across from Elrond. Elrond grabbed the water and drank it eagerly. 

“Nelyo?” He asked.

“Yes?” Maedhros looked up from the table to make eye contact with him.

“I don’t like this omelette. Too many onions.”


End file.
